that the close-thrown screen, upon which
danced the lights and shadows, was the smoke-blackened canvas of a
tepee, loosely stretched upon its slanting lodge-poles.

Again he attempted to fill his congested lungs with cool, sweet air,
and again the attempt ended in a groan and he relaxed, gasping, while
upon his forehead the cold sweat stood in clammy beads.

Yet his head was burning hot, and the blankets which covered him were
blankets of fire. Suddenly it dawned upon him that this was a hideous
nightmare.

The blackened lodge with its terrifying shadow-pictures that flickered
and faded and flickered again; the old crone by the fire; the pain in
his head, and the hot aches of his body, were horrid brain fancies.

With a mighty effort he would break the spell, and from the bunk below
the rich brogue of Fallon would "bawl him out" for his restlessness--good
old Fallon!

Vainly he attempted to marshal his scattered wits, and break the spell
of the torturing brain picture. The shadows above him took on weird
shapes; grinning faces with tangled gray locks; long snakelike bodies,
and tails of red and yellow light twined and writhed sinuously about
the beautiful face of a girl.

How real--how distinct in the half-light, was the face beneath the mass
of gleaming black hair. And eyes! Dark, serious eyes, into which one
might gaze far into mysterious depths--soft, restful eyes, thought the
man as he stared upward into the phantom face.

From the curve of the parted red lips the perfect teeth flashed
whitely, and from the delicately turned chin the soft full-throated
neck swept beneath the open throat of the loose-fitting buckskin
hunting shirt whose deep fringed trimmings only half-concealed the rich
lines of a rounded bosom.

The man remained motionless, fearing to move lest the vision fade and
the harsh voice of Fallon blare out from below. "Damn Fallon!" he
muttered, and then the pictured lips moved and in his ears was the
soft, sweet sound of a voice.

The writhing snakes with the shining tails resolved into flickering
wall-shadows which danced lightly among the slanting lodge-poles. But
the dream-face did not fade, the dream-eyes gazed softly into his, the
dream-lips moved, and the low sound of the dream-voice was music to his
ears.

"You are sick," the voice said; "you are in pain." Bill's throat was
dry with a burning thirst.

"Water!" he gasped, and the word rasped harsh.

The girl reached into the shadow